Hoss lacked the wild nature of his little brother, and so he was slower to react when presented with the knowledge that the sheriff and his deputies had taken the saddles. It also didn't immediately occur to him that it hadn't been any kind of mistake either.

He had inherited from his father an inclination to see the best in people, though it was probable that he'd gotten his slowness to anger more from his mother, seeing as his father's patience came more from experience than his own nature. So he figured that, like as not, the sheriff had mistaken them for some kind of outlaws, and had taken their saddles as evidence or something.

It didn't make a lot of sense, and Hoss knew that of course, but it made a lot more sense than the truth, which was the conclusion that Joe immediately leaped to, being of a more suspicious mind and less trusting disposition than his older brother. Joe was wiser than to come right out and say it though. The years had made a somewhat prudent individual of him, though the vicious streak he'd tried hard to bury showed through plainly enough when he turned on the sheriff in unmistakable anger.

"What do you want with us?" Joe demanded.

The sheriff, a middle aged man with shaggy salt and pepper hair, leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows on the beat-up desk in front of him.

"Well, boy, I'll tell ya," the sheriff said, "Elodie isn't much of a town, as maybe you've noticed."

He paused, as though expecting Hoss or Joe to say something, but they didn't.

"There was supposed to be gold in those hills outside of town," the sheriff continued, "But of course there wasn't. Never is, I suppose. Some of the younger bachelor types got out, but those that stayed... most have got families. We came all this way, set up our dreams in this town. Simple as that."

Joe and Hoss glanced from the sheriff to the two deputies, not really quite believing what they were hearing. But the deputies refused to meet their eyes, and stared past them instead. They were younger than the sheriff, but they had a tired look in their eyes that matched his, and there'd been an uncommon weariness to their actions when they'd taken the rifles and pistols Hoss and Joe had been carrying.

"You're not even going to pretend you think we're criminals and arrest us?" Joe asked.

"What for?" the sheriff replied, "We all know you aren't, an' you know we know it. Why lie about it?"

"If it's money you're after-" Hoss began, but the sheriff interrupted.

"We already know what you have in your saddlebag," he said, "Lacy went in and counted it last night while you were asleep. No more'n three thousand dollars," he shook his head sadly, "Not near enough."

Hoss had left his saddlebag with Candy at the livery stable. He now wondered if there was any money in it now. Neither he nor Joe had heard Lacy, but the count was correct. It was possible she'd taken the money with her. The idea that they could have ridden out of town without any money in their pockets and not even known it stung, but not as bad as what Hoss now realized was coming.

"Now, we don't mean to hurt you," the sheriff said, "Not if you don't make us."

"The way I see it, we're not making you do a damn thing," Joe spat.

"You watch your mouth, sonny," the sheriff drawled mildly, then continued, "Now, we've heard of you Cartwrights. Two boys and their father workin' a ranch together. Seems to me that indicates a mighty powerful family bond. Powerful enough to be worth a lotta money."

Hoss felt the rage swell up in him then, but he couldn't cave to it because he had to control Joe. This wasn't the first time a Cartwright had been held for ransom. Because they were big, powerful and well-known, they were targets for people wanting to get rich quick, or just get away with murder. If there was anything that got them fighting mad, it was a threat to their family, and this qualified.

"We figure each of you ought to be accounted for separately," the sheriff went on, "See, maybe your pa only wants to pay up for one of ya."

What Joe might've said or done never came to pass. The moment he made a move for the sheriff, Hoss caught his brother by the arms, a wary eye on the deputies, who nervously raised their pistols.

"Joe," Hoss whispered fiercely, "Settle down."

Joe tossed him a glare, the look in his eyes practically feral. Anger came so easily to the youngest Cartwright, a fire burned in him that often led him to act in a self-destructive manner. Like now. Any move Joe made now would just get him pistol whipped – or worse. Joe trembled under Hoss' strong hands, trying to get control of his emotions enough to speak.

"More'n likely," the sheriff went on, "He'll pay up for both of ya, an' be glad enough about it. See, at this time o' year, a man's got to do some hard thinkin' 'bout his family one way or another."

"This is a lousy way to keep Christmas," Joe hissed through his teeth, his eyes flashing, "And a worse thing to do to people you barely even know. We haven't done anything to you."

"Oh, I sent one of my deputies out to the next town over to send a telegram. Your pa should receive it right quick, and come up with the money fast enough. He'll be only too happy to pay so he can get you home by Christmas, I'm sure of that," the sheriff explained.

"You wouldn't let us go," Joe said, "Not when we know where your town is."

"Joe!" Hoss rebuked him, but it was too late; the damage had already been done.

If the sheriff and his deputies hadn't thought of it before, they sure did now. But they didn't say anything to Joe, which only served to confirm his assessment.

"If anything happens to us," Joe growled in a dangerously low voice, "There won't be a rock you can hide under that our pa won't find you, and there won't be enough money in the world to protect you from what you've done. He'll kill you."

It wasn't a threat; it was a warning, one the sheriff chose to ignore.

"Put 'em in a cell," the sheriff instructed.

The deputies shuffled forward, Hoss and Joe ahead of them. Even knowing that the eventual intent was for their death, Hoss and Joe knew that they could buy themselves time by cooperating. The plan was obviously not to kill them just yet, and that gave them a chance. If they had been hoping for Candy to interfere, however, their hopes were dashed when another pair of deputies came in, one of them dragging the ranch hand by the collar and bandana.

"I haven't done anything!" Candy was saying, and it was clear from the blood at the corner of one deputy's mouth and the rapidly forming bruise on the face of the other that he had not agreed to come quietly, "Let me go!"

Whatever else he might've said was choked off because the deputy holding him yanked on his shirt and bandana. Candy resisted, and there was a momentary scuffle until he was once more subdued, gasping somewhat as his wind had been briefly cut off to induce a more cooperative demeanor.

"We found this stuff on him," said the other deputy, holding out a handful of objects which included Candy's pistol and a few dollar bills he'd had in his pocket.

"What's this?" the sheriff asked of the deputy that had hold of Candy.

"This is the other one," the deputy said, "Lacy said three rode in."

"And she also said only two of 'em were Cartwrights," the sheriff remarked, nodding towards Joe and Hoss, "Specifically, those two."

"Candy works for us," Joe said in as calm a tone as could reasonably be expected, "He's got nothing to do with this, so you can just let him go."

Despite the restraint placed upon him by the overzealous deputy, Candy managed to meet the eyes of first one Cartwright and then the other, puzzled and trying to grasp the fine points of the situation before he caused any trouble he shouldn't. Neither Hoss nor Joe bore a look that was at all reassuring.

The sheriff looked at Joe and Hoss, and then at Candy. The three of them could all recognize the decision in his eyes, even before he spoke.

"No, I don't think so," the sheriff said, "He'd run off and tell Cartwright where you boys are the moment we turned him loose."

"What makes you think I care what happens to them?" Candy spat, and his intonation was so venomous that Joe and Hoss could almost believe what he said themselves, "I've already been paid; what happens to those two now is no concern of mine. I've got no love for the Cartwrights; just their money."

"Then it's a sure thing the head Cartwright wouldn't pay a nickel for you," the sheriff said, and turned to address the deputy standing nearest to Joe, "Kill him."

The deputy, clearly not used to the thuggish line of work he found himself in, turned his back on Joe to comply with the order. In a blink, Joe was on him. The other nearby deputy moved to intervene, but Hoss held him up. The deputy who was left not holding onto anybody moved in to help restrain Hoss while the sheriff busied himself with Joe. The distraction gave Candy an opportunity.

He bucked, and elbowed his captor in the chest. The grip on his collar loosened enough for him to turn and punch the man in the face. In a moment, Candy assessed that Joe had been overpowered, Hoss brought to a halt by a pistol across the skull, and the deputies were rounding on him. Unlike Joe and Hoss, Candy wasn't to be captured; he was to be executed.

Already he had comprehended that there was some reason to keep Joe and Hoss alive. And anyway there was nothing he could do for them. Still, he froze for a moment.

"Candy, go!" Joe's voice was muffled because he was pressed face down across the sheriff's desk, but the order was clear enough, "Get out! Run!"

It was enough to unstick Candy, and he bolted for the open door. The sheriff was the quickest to react, leaving his deputy to hold Joe while he straightened and drew his firearm. Joe bucked the deputy, knocking the man into the sheriff even as the gun went off.

The bullet still hit, and Candy spun and crashed to the ground just beyond the door. There was a scuffle of people trying to get to the door, though two deputies continued to hang onto Joe and stand over the unconscious form of Hoss. Joe's heart was in his throat. He knew Candy had been hit, that there was nowhere for him to go even if he hadn't been killed, yet still he clung to a hope.

That hope was rewarded by the sound of a horse galloping away and additional shots being fired. One of the deputies shouted that his horse had been stolen. The seconds it had taken them to reach the door to finish the job had been time enough for Candy to get himself up and move.

It would be an overstatement to suggest he was riding the horse, more that he'd managed to fall across its back and hang on after kicking it into a mad gallop. It would also be far too generous to say he was controlling the horse, but he was on its back and leaving town, and that was what mattered.

Joe didn't need to see it to know, because he heard it in the hoof beats, in the angry shouts of the deputies, and in the loudly echoing shots. They didn't hit him again. They returned inside.

"Lock those two up," the sheriff ordered his deputies, "And then see that he don't get far."

"I don't see how he could," one deputy, the youngest of them, said, "You hit him in the back and he was bleedin' pretty bad. Ain't no way he can make it far, 'specially not in this weather."

"So it should be easy to see to it that he don't," the sheriff snarled.

One deputy with a pistol aimed at him was sufficient to move Joe into the only jail cell, but it took three to carry Hoss in. They dropped him unceremoniously on the floor in cell with Joe. Then the door clanged shut and was locked. They returned to the main room, shutting the door to the jail room behind them. Still, Joe heard an amount of murmuring and a brief argument.

Shortly thereafter, he heard the sound of horses galloping away, and he knew the deputies were after Candy. In the deep snow, he'd inevitably leave a clear trail for them to follow. If what that deputy had said about how badly he'd been shot was true, he didn't stand much of a chance.

Unable to do anything else, Joe knelt on the floor and tended to his brother as best he could.

It didn't take long for Hoss to wake up, as he hadn't been hit that hard.

"Oh," Hoss mumbled, putting a hand to his aching head, "What happened?"

"Candy got away, took a deputy's horse and rode out fast," Joe answered grimly, "But the sheriff shot him," he shook his head, indicating that he didn't know how badly Candy had been injured.

Hoss sat up experimentally, and decided the room wasn't spinning too terribly badly. Even so, he scooted so he could lean against the wall instead of holding himself up. He checked the hand he'd put to his head. It came away with some blood, but not a shocking amount.

"You okay?" Hoss asked of Joe.

"Yeah, just sore," Joe replied, "You and Candy got the worst of it."

A flicker of anger burned quietly in his gaze as he spoke, and there was a dangerous undercurrent to his tone that Hoss didn't like, but it seemed like he'd regained enough control of himself not to do anything foolish, and they both knew that the fight for Candy's life had been necessary.

If they hadn't done it, Candy would have been killed for sure. They'd given him a chance, and that was all they could offer, though it sounded as if it had not been nearly enough. In the end, it wasn't just about his life, but their own lives too. Candy was their only chance. Even though the sheriff had refused to answer Joe's accusation, it was pretty clear to both brothers that he intended to kill them just as soon as he got what he wanted from their father.

And they both knew their father well enough to know he would give money for his sons, once offered proof that they had been captured. He was a wise man, but he valued his sons over any amount of money. He even valued them over his beloved Ponderosa itself, because it would be nothing without what was left of his family. He had outlived three wives, and could not survive the thought of outliving even one of his sons after all of that.

He would suspect that his sons would be killed regardless, but he could not know for sure, and therefore would not take the risk with their lives by refusing to give their captors whatever they wanted.

Candy might not know a lot of the details, but he did have the critical information that needed to be passed along: specifically where the boys were and who was holding them prisoner. There was no doubt in either Joe or Hoss' minds that he would pass that along to Ben as soon as he could.

Assuming he made it that far...